


There's An Art To Life's Distractions

by tiny_kaiju



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Danny Stoker (mentioned) - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Night Stands, Pre-Canon, anyway what if they were both newly single and had a drunk rebound hookup. haha jk unless, no one in this fic is cis because it's my fic and i make the rules, two canon bi characters! love that for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_kaiju/pseuds/tiny_kaiju
Summary: They lapse into a companionable silence for a moment, and Tim deliberates over his next move. Random strangers at a pub aren’t his usual style, true; this particular stranger is awfully handsome, though, and...well, if Tim’s being honest with himself, this seems like it could be a lovely little distraction for the both of them.“So, forgive me if this is too forward,” he starts, fixing Jon with his winningest smile, “but you’re really pretty, I’m a bit drunk, and my flat is a five minute walk from here. Wanna get out of here and let me take your mind off that ex for a few hours?”
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 135





	There's An Art To Life's Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I saw [this fanart](https://bigfreakinfrog.tumblr.com/post/617129072980525056/uni-au-shenanigans) and it grabbed me directly by the brain and wouldn't let go until I wrote this. My first fanfic in literal years, so, enjoy!  
> Jon is nonbinary in this fic and Tim is a trans man, neutral/masc terms are used for all parties' anatomy.  
> Suggested listening: Easy Thing by Dom Fera, The Rebound by Tristan Prettyman

Tim would usually feel at least a little bit bad for just ditching the group he was out with. He appreciates the invite, really - it’s not like Danny’s pals were required to include him, but birthday drinks are fun even when the birthday in question is his kid brother’s friend’s new girlfriend, and lord knows Tim could use the distraction.  
  
It had been nearly a month since the breakup. The completely mutual breakup, at least that was Tim’s story: totally mutual, they had just grown apart, no hard feelings. (Jacob’s take on their split may have been slightly less rose-tinted and more layered with talk of Tim’s general inability to take things seriously, but that’s neither here nor there.)  
  
As far as Tim was concerned, he was coping absolutely _fine_ , thank you; he still preferred to spend the evenings out, rather than stay in and mope. He and Jacob had been more serious than anyone Tim had dated before, and maybe putting on a smile and getting a few drinks in didn’t chase the sting away entirely, but it did dull it a bit. And anyway, the pub was barely half a mile from his and Danny’s flat - he was really planning on just staying for a few rounds, wishing Tara (was it Tara? Tanya, maybe?) a happy birthday, and heading home.  
  
That was all before he caught a glimpse of the slight figure at the bar. He’s not the sort that usually catches Tim’s eye, for the simple reason that this person seems to be _trying_ to escape the notice of everyone in the room, save the occasional wave to the bartender for a refill. Curled in on himself, tucked against the wall with one ankle hooked around the leg of the barstool, he glares down into his glass like it’s the cause of all his misery.  
  
But there’s something about him that Tim can’t quite tear his eyes away from; maybe it’s the restless way his fingers dance over the side of his glass between sips ( _and how would those fingers feel_ , some touch-starved part of his brain helpfully pipes up). Or the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones against the soft waves of thick dark hair that are starting to escape the low ponytail clasped at the back of his skull ( _Imagine running your fingers through that hair, it looks soft...Wonder if he likes his hair pulled?_ ...okay, the touch-starved part of his brain might also be slightly horny). Maybe just the soft curve of his lips - lips that are currently pressed into a frown, sure, but Tim decides that he _has_ to know what that mouth looks like with a smile on.  
  
So he slips away from the table and saunters up to the bar, leaning one elbow on the counter next to Tall, Dark, and Mopey.  
  
“Bad day?”  
  
The stranger’s eyes track slowly from the floor up Tim’s frame to his face, not trying to be particularly subtle about giving him a bit of a once-over. “More like a bad month, honestly. Perhaps a bad year?” He shrugs, lips twisting into a bit of a grimace. “Was it that obvious?”  
  
“Afraid so - I could hear you sighing dramatically all the way from my booth,” Tim hums, knocking one finger against the nearly empty glass. “Can I buy you a drink?” A nod, and Tim waves the bartender over, thanking her as she sets two whiskey and cokes in front of them. Sipping his own, he continues. “Tim Stoker, by the way, and who might you be?”  
  
“Jon. Ah, Jon Sims,” he mumbles. Takes a swallow of his drink, “Thanks.”  
  
Tim settles into the seat beside him at the bar. “So, Jon, what’s got you so down?”  
  
Jon sighs, propping his cheek against one hand and staring morosely into his drink again. “My, ah...my girlfriend broke up with me. Fairly recently.”  
  
Tim winces, “Oh, that’s rough.”  
  
“And I completely deserved it,” it comes out in almost a whine, which Jon is quick to drown in another swallow of his drink.  
  
“Hey, now don’t say that,” Tim frowns, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jon’s ear. “Shit happens, I’m sure it wasn’t—”  
  
“Oh, no it really was my fault.” Jon gives a wry little smile, leaning into the brush of fingers against his cheek. “I was kind of a dick, actually, she wasn’t wrong there.”  
  
“Well, okay,” Tim chuckles, “Fair enough, my ex said the same about me and he may have had a point too. All you can really do is try to be less of a dick going forward, I guess?”  
  
That earns him a more genuine smile. “I suppose you’re right.”  
  
They lapse into a companionable silence for a moment, and Tim deliberates over his next move. Random strangers at a pub aren’t his usual style, true; this particular stranger is awfully handsome, though, and...well, if Tim’s being honest with himself, this seems like it could be a lovely little distraction for the both of them.  
  
“So, forgive me if this is too forward,” he starts, fixing Jon with his winningest smile, “but you’re really pretty, I’m a bit drunk, and my flat is a five minute walk from here. Wanna get out of here and let me take your mind off that ex for a few hours?”  
  
Jon pauses for a moment, seeming to mull it over, eyes wide - and nods, hiding the rising color in his cheeks behind his glass as he swallows the last of his drink. “Yes, I, I’d like that.” 

The temperature has dropped a bit in the few hours since night fell, and Tim’s leather jacket ends up draped around Jon’s shoulders as they make their way back to Tim’s flat. Some cliched part of Tim thrills at the way Jon’s leaning into him, with Tim’s jacket wrapped loosely around his slender shoulders, Jon idly fiddling with the various pins and patches that decorate the jacket. His fingers trace over a small round pin, striped pink, white, and blue, and after a moment he seems to recognize it, tipping his chin up to look at Tim. “Oh, that’s- are you?”  
  
“Trans? Yep,” Tim pops the “p” a little harder than necessary, not breaking his stride, but his easy, relaxed manner tenses. “That gonna be a problem?”  
  
“No! Of course it’s not,” Jon stammers a bit before biting his lip and continuing. “Me too, I mean I’m uh, nonbinary? Agender, I think, I’m not particularly fussed about pronouns, he/him or, or they/them or whatever is fine by me. So I suppose it’s not _exactly_ the same, but no,” he reaches down to squeeze Tim’s hand once, looking up at him with a small but genuine smile, “not a problem at all.”  
  
“Cool,” Tim hums, the tension melting out of his shoulders. He leaves their fingers linked until Jon shifts, breaking the moment.  
  
“Ah- sorry, I think your phone is still in this pocket, it’s been...buzzing.” Jon fishes the mobile out of the jacket pocket and offers it to Tim, who takes it sheepishly, swiping away several unread messages.  
  
“What I get for ditching my brother and his friends with no explanation, I guess. Here, I’ll just…” Tim taps out a brief message to Danny, just the word “sorry!” and a sock emoji, hits send, and sets his phone to silent, slipping it into his back pocket.  
  
Raising one eyebrow, Jon tilts his head. “Socks?”  
  
Tim laughs out loud at that, shaking his head a bit. “Ah, yeah. So Danny, my brother, we share a flat, which is great most of the time! But I walked in on him and his various dates one too many times, and an emoji is a bit easier than leaving a literal sock on the door, so. Stoker code for ‘I have someone over, stay out of the flat or else,’” he explains.  
  
“Cute,” Jon snorts, returning his grin as Tim leads them up the stairs. He leans against the wall beside the door, dark eyes taking in Tim’s face as he fumbles his keys into the lock.  
  
They get through the door and Tim leans in, bracing one hand on the wall beside Jon’s head. “Can I kiss you?”  
  
Suddenly a bit breathless, Jon just nods, tipping his chin up and meeting him in what starts as a soft, almost chaste press of lips. Even that brief contact pulls a low whine from Jon’s throat, and Tim pulls back just a bit, one hand still anchored on the back of his neck. “You good?”  
  
Jon nods fervently, a blush staining his cheeks. “Fine, fine, I just...don’t generally _do_ this, that’s all, it’s just...been a while,” he ends on a breath.  
  
Tim raises an eyebrow. “You know we don’t _have_ to do this, yeah?”  
  
That earns him a roll of Jon’s eyes as he stretches up to kiss him again, a more heated slide of lips and tongue. “I know,” he mumbles against Tim’s mouth, interrupting himself to nip at his lower lip. “I want to.”  
  
“Good,” Tim slides his hands up under Jon’s shirt, palms skimming over his ribs, and pulls him closer, relishing the little shiver that goes through Jon’s body when their lips meet again.  
  
They’re both slightly out of breath when Jon pulls back after a few minutes. “Bedroom?” He asks, voice low, and Tim’s already pulling him down the hallway, though they keep getting distracted along the way - Tim pauses to suck at Jon’s lower lip, Jon slips out of Tim’s jacket and tosses it onto a chair before winding his arms around behind Tim’s neck and kissing him breathless.  
  
Tim has just pulled back enough to ruck the t-shirt up and over Jon’s head, letting it fall to the bedroom floor, and Jon crowds him up against the wall to suck a bruise into the soft skin under his jaw as he deftly works open the buttons on Tim’s shirt. Nimble fingers trace over his collarbones, and Tim can hear the other man suck in an appreciative breath as he shrugs his shirt the rest of the way off.  
  
“Oh, aren’t you _lovely_ ,” Jon murmurs, dipping his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the base of Tim’s throat. Another kiss to the slight swell of his chest, the line of his ribs, and Jon slides to his knees, trailing kisses and the occasional scrape of teeth along Tim’s torso as he goes.  
  
“ _Hah_ , fuck. And here I thought I was —mm— supposed to be cheering you up,” he means it to come out teasing, a little snarky, but the words dissolve into a low whine when Jon nips a sharp little bite into the arch of his hip bone.  
  
A smirk twitches up the corner of Jon’s mouth. “May I? I’m actually rather good at this part,” he punctuates the sentence with a softer press of lips just above the waistband of Tim’s pants, slim fingers teasing over the inseam of his jeans. “But I’d love to see what you cheering me up looks like after.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s- yeah, fuck, lemme just-” Tim works his belt and trousers open one-handed, his other hand petting through Jon’s hair as Jon tugs his jeans and briefs down to his ankles.  
  
As soon as Tim kicks one foot free of his pants, he’s being pushed back against the wall as one of Jon’s hands slides up the back of his calf, lifting to drape his thigh over one shoulder.  
  
“Gorgeous,” Jon murmurs.  
  
Then he’s nuzzling into his neatly trimmed curls, index and middle fingers spreading Tim’s folds and a clever tongue tracing over his cock. Tim’s head thuds back against the wall and he moans, hips twitching forward. He can feel Jon smirk against him at that— _cheeky bastard_ — and lap almost teasingly at his dick once, twice, before taking him into his mouth.  
  
“Oh _fuck_ ,” Tim sighs, grinding himself down against the soft wet heat of Jon’s mouth, groaning appreciatively when he moves to lick a broad stripe across his entrance, tongue just dipping inside before returning to sucking him in slow, gentle pulls.  
  
After some hazy amount of time Tim feels two fingers teasing at his entrance and Jon humming a question against his cock, dark brown eyes catching his gaze.  
  
“Yeah, please, want your fingers in me— _ah_ ,” his sentence trails off into a breathy gasp as Jon obliges, his fingers thrusting smooth and slick in time with his tongue on Tim’s cock. “God, yes,” Tim pants, heat building in his gut. “Just like that, babe, fuck, you’re gonna make me— oh—” and he shudders apart on Jon’s tongue, clenching down on his fingers as he comes.  
  
Once he’s reasonably sure his legs will hold him, he drops his other foot down to the floor and pulls Jon up to stand, one hand tilting his chin up for a messy kiss.  
  
“My turn, gorgeous,” Tim murmurs against his lips, drawing back just far enough to press open-mouthed kisses along the line of Jon’s jaw, leaning in to nip at his earlobe. “Gonna make you feel so good, let’s get those trousers off, yeah?” He walks Jon backwards till the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress.  
  
Jon sits, already fumbling with the button of his trousers, and watches as Tim leans over to the bedside drawer.  
  
“Now the question is, did you want to top?” Tim dangles a harness from one finger, then rummages through the drawer again for a moment before pulling out a double-ended dildo and flashing a cheeky grin. “Or can I?”  
  
Jon’s lips form a soft “Oh,” and he nods, kicking his trousers the rest of the way off. “You, please.”  
  
Tim blows him a little kiss. “As you wish,” he lilts, making a show of slipping the curved end of the toy inside himself before buckling on the harness and setting a bottle of lube within easy reach. He knows he looks good like this - the black leather against his tanned skin, the harness winding low around his hips and the deep purple cock jutting out - but the hungry look in Jon’s dark eyes sets Tim’s pulse racing again, and he kneels on the bed beside Jon to slot their lips together, pushing him to lie back.  
  
Kissing Jon is amazingly distracting, and Tim feels like he could do this for hours, enjoying the soft gasps and muffled groans that drip from his lips like honey, the way he arches up into Tim’s hands at the slightest brush of fingers along his hip. It does make him wonder what Jon would sound like without kisses muffling his lovely noises, though, so Tim shifts to kissing down the curve of Jon’s neck, sliding his hand up to tweak one nipple between his fingers at the same time as he bites down and grinning against his soft brown skin at the needy whine it pulls from Jon’s throat.  
  
“T-tease,” Jon breathes, scraping his nails lightly up Tim’s back to wind his fingers through his hair as Tim’s mouth wanders lower, working a hickey under his collarbone.  
  
Tim looks up at that, mock offended. “Tease? I do not _tease_ ,” he dips his head to trace the tip of his tongue around a dusky pink nipple, looking up with a smirk at Jon’s shaky exhale. “It’s not _teasing_ when I fully intend to follow through,” interrupting himself to trail open-mouthed kisses along Jon’s ribcage, ending with a soft little nip to his side as he ghosts the tips of his fingers along the underside of Jon’s cock. “I just intend to take my time enjoying you, if that’s alright by you.”  
  
Breathless, Jon nods. Tim smiles, then slides farther down the bed to settle between Jon’s thighs. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know that?” He says almost casually, wrapping a loose fist around Jon’s cock and stroking.  
  
Jon blushes at the compliment and looks away, but his hips twitch up into the feather-light touches. “Thanks,” he mutters shyly - cute that he’s getting shy about it _now_ , Tim thinks to himself, clicking open the lube.  
  
Jon takes in a shaky breath at the sensation of one slick finger circling his hole, exhaling on a trembling moan when Tim presses his finger in and leans down to take the tip of Jon’s cock between his lips, swirling his tongue over the slit. Several minutes of this, wet kisses along his shaft and stroking two, then three fingers into the soft heat of him, and Jon is a mess, dark hair tangled on the pillow and his skinny chest heaving.  
  
“Please...christ, Tim, please, want you to fuck me,” he barely whispers it, but it sends a rush of heat down Tim’s spine. He withdraws his fingers, pulling a bereft little noise from Jon that is quickly cut off as Tim leans in to brush their lips together before sitting back on his heels and settling his hands on Jon’s hips.  
  
He can’t take his eyes off the beautiful stranger in his bed - dark eyes half-lidded, his lips forming a slack little “o”, head tipping back into the pillows as Tim rolls his hips, easing into him an inch at a time. “Fuck,” Tim breathes, shifting back nearly all the way and sliding in harder. Jon lets out a bright little moan, legs wrapping tight around his waist, and Tim sets to work fucking him into the mattress.  
  
It doesn’t take long - Tim angles his thrusts to rub right over Jon’s prostate, making him gasp and twitch in his arms at every thrust, and the end of the toy inside Tim presses deliciously against him with every movement. Jon slips a hand between them to wrap around his cock, his other hand clinging desperately to Tim’s shoulder as he comes, Tim’s hips jerking once, twice more before following him over the edge.  
  
Tim rests his forehead against Jon’s chest for a moment, letting their breathing even out a bit before pulling out and shimmying out of the harness, tossing it and the dildo off to the side to deal with later and flopping onto his back. “C’mere?” He holds out one arm and Jon hesitates, nods, curls into his side, lets Tim wrap an arm around his shoulders and drop a kiss onto his forehead, presses a kiss to Tim’s collarbone in return.  
  
They stay like that for a while, nearly dozing, until the pale peachy light of dawn peeks through the curtains. Jon sighs. “I should be off, but…” he sits up, gives a sad little smile. “Thank you, Tim. This was nice.”  
  
“It was nice. In fact,” Tim catches his wrist for a moment, snagging a pen off the bedside table and scribbling a phone number onto his forearm. He presses a kiss to Jon’s wrist and lets go. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”  
  
Jon flushes but leans in to kiss him properly, one hand cupping his cheek. “Maybe you will.”


End file.
